Past Regret
by Samsquatch67
Summary: "I'm…" the king started speaking, his voice strained, but the one word caught Merlin's full attention. "I treat you…" he continued, obviously trying to force out the words. "Horribly? Prat-ishly?" Merlin suggested with a grin. "Shut up and let me finish," the seriousness in Arthur's voice was lined with a trace of regret. (NO SLASH, BROMANCE GALORE) (Please tell me what you think)


**Bromance. Bromance. I've never written so much bromance. Hahaha, so on my last try of a Merlin fic, there was one review, and since I didn't say thank you before, I'll say it here in hopes that you run across this: Thank you for the review Mersan123 :) **

The fire flickered brightly, feeding from the air and the wood beneath of it, sparks crackling and jumping from its depths. Somewhere a wolf howled at the moon, a hopeless, mourning sound.

"What is it?" Merlin asked, not having to look at the young king to be able to tell. His posture was tense and the air around him was heavy with burden. "You wouldn't understand, Merlin," Arthur replied after a beat of silence. The warlock sighed softly. "Maybe not," he simply stated, then began the waiting process. He knew Arthur well enough to know, that it was only a matter of time before—"This responsibility. Since my father's death, and the attacks on Camelot. The people look to me, as their king, and their king can't show weakness," Arthur started one of his rare, predictable, (And yet somehow not so rare,) rants.

"But you _are _human, and they know that. The knights, nobles, peasants, they're loyal to you, they trust you. Not just their king," Merlin said, blue eyes staring into the fire. "What on _Ear_th do you mean?" Arthur asked, the normal tone that was there was lacking this time. "They look to Arthur Pendragon. They look to you as a person; just a man, and yet still their king," the dark haired man explained, the conviction and sincerity in his voice left The Once and Future King in a sort of stunned, awe-induced silence.

"Sometimes I wonder if you weren't such an _idiot_ if you would be…" Athur trailed off, shaking his head subtly. Merlin scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Be what?" he pressed. Arthur only grunted in reply.

"I'm…" the king started speaking, his voice strained, but the one word caught Merlin's full attention. "I treat you…" he continued, obviously trying to force out the words. "Horribly? Prat-ishly?" Merlin suggested with a grin. "Shut up and let me finish," the seriousness in Arthur's voice was lined with a trace of regret. Merlin clacked his teeth together, coughing and looking down at his hands.

"Poorly. Not that you don't deserve it, you are a horrible servant," "Am I a horrible friend as well?" as soon as the words left his lips there was a short pause. "Not at all," the Pendragon said, the hidden meaning behind Arthur's words were obvious, and like a blow to the back of the head. There was guilt, and something akin to self-doubt, or hatred.

"Arthur-" he tried, his voice gentle, but Arthur held up a hand. "I don't trust people. After Morgana, and my Uncle, and even Lancelot and Gwen, I push people away, and I can't- I can't trust people. I don't know what would happen if…" Arthur paused just long enough for Merlin to feel a stab of pain and guilt. He lied to Arthur everyday. But it was for his good, to protect him. "What I'm trying to say is… I don't want to screw up and push you away, too. Some days I can hardly trust myself. But somehow I can always count on you, my _stupid_, big-eared manservant," "Way to ruin the moment, clotpole," Merlin teased, grinning a lopsided smile.

Arthur smacked him on the back of the head with a gloved hand, and Merlin's head jolted forward, "Ow!" he blurted. He gave the young king the most heartbroken, betrayed look he could muster, rubbing a hand on the back of his head. Arthur rolled his eyes and looked away, and eventually both of them chuckled.

Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, "You're a good man," he said, and two pairs of blue eyes met for several seconds before the blond stood, walking around the fire and collapsing onto his bedroll. "'Night," he mumbled through the makeshift pillow, and it barely took a second for his form to relax and his breathing to steady out in slumber. "Goodnight," Merlin sighed, letting his head rest back against the boulder behind him.


End file.
